


Litost

by an_upset_librarian



Series: Duende (Elriel Moments) [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Elriel, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 21:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20646059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_upset_librarian/pseuds/an_upset_librarian
Summary: Litost (Czech): “A state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery.”"	The memory of Azriel sitting across from her and watching as she dumped soil into the plot, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips when she spilled soil all over her skirt, filled her head and she fought off a blush as her heart skipped a beat.Azriel was just being nice to her, helping her transition into her new life in Velaris. It was his job. Yet, she still found herself growing attached to the quiet spymaster and his curling shadows. Sometimes she swore she saw him watch her, something dark and primal swirling in his eyes. Perhaps in another life, where she wasn’t mated to a stranger she wanted nothing to do with, they could have been something together.But it was foolish to project her lonely heart onto him. Foolish and naïve. "





	Litost

**Litost (Czech): “A state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery.”**

Elain woke coated in a slimy layer of cold sweat with the echo of a scream in her throat. Gasping, she threw her bedsheets as far away as she could and sat up, her hands shaking. She rose to her feet, wobbling, and stumbled over to the bathroom connected to her room. Panting, she turned on the faucet and doused her face and neck with the blessedly cold water.

Breathing heavily, she kept her eyes closed as the droplets of water rolled down her skin and slowly, she felt her heart rate return to normal. She stared into the mirror, at her pale skin and the shadows underneath her eyes, a wave of irritation washing through her at the reflection that stared back at her. The pointed tips of her ears peeked out from under her tangled blonde hair, reminding her of the body she could never get used to. She wasn’t even sure how strong she was anymore. She wasn’t as physically strong as Feyre or any of the Illyrian males, but she’d caught herself accidentally crushing teacups and crumbling stone under her fae fingers.

She only remembered the barest impressions of her dream, like the beginning strokes of a painting giving an idea to the canvas, but not a concrete image for anyone else to understand. She was drowning in the cauldron, watching her father die and watching her sisters die, but that was all Elain could remember of the nightmare.

More than she wanted _to_ remember.

Her body still shuddered intermittently, nausea curling in her gut and crawling up her throat. Elain just stood, leaning against the bathroom sink, and tried to regain control. She didn’t think she would be getting any more sleep tonight.

Instead of weeping in her bathroom or staring blankly at the walls of her room, Elain decided to go out to her new garden of night blooming flowers and plant their seeds under the light of the moon with the stars as her only companions. Hopefully the gorgeous night sky would help bring her mind some peace.

It wasn’t called the Night Court for nothing. The night sky was always blooming with swirls of blue and purple mixing in with the blackness of the night, millions of stars peeking through the night sky. The moon was just a sliver that night, a smile curling in the sky and soothing her tormented mind. Elain let out a relieved breath as she stepped out into her garden, her feet instinctively taking her past the rows and rows of vegetables to the newest plot she was creating.

A section to honor the Night Court, her sister’s home. She knelt and began working her hands into the soil, a pleased hum rumbling in her chest as the warm soil touched her skin. She could always find comfort in the earth, in plant life. Ever since she was young, and her family lived in a large estate, she would tend to her own idea of a garden. Even when they had nothing and lived in poverty she tried to maintain a garden. It might not have been enough to repay Feyre for her sacrifices, but it was all she could do.

Soon Elain felt the residual fear from her nightmare slowly fade away as she tended to the delicate flowers Rhys brought. If she remembered right, there was a type of jasmine, a fae flower she couldn’t pronounce, the Blaithoiche, and one Rhys just called ‘The Queen of the Night.’

The memory of Azriel sitting across from her and watching as she dumped soil into the plot, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips when she spilled soil all over her skirt, filled her head and she fought off a blush as her heart skipped a beat.

Azriel was just being nice to her, helping her transition into her new life in Velaris. It was his job. Yet, she still found herself growing attached to the quiet spymaster and his curling shadows. Sometimes she swore she saw him watch her, something dark and primal swirling in his eyes. Perhaps in another life, where she wasn’t mated to a stranger she wanted nothing to do with, they could have been something together.

But it was foolish to project her lonely heart onto him. Foolish and naïve.

Elain turned her attention back to the soil and the saplings she carefully planted, using only the light of the stars to guide her. Time passed, and Elain found peace as she worked, the inner clockwork of her mind ticking steadily as she focused. She could feel the barest brush of a vision against her mind, slowly trying to worm its way into her consciousness and torment her.

But she was used to pushing the power down into a small corner of her mind. She hadn’t had a vision in weeks, and she wanted it to stay that way.

It was when she was nearly finished, as the moon crested high above her, that she noticed another presence enter her garden. She gripped the trowel tight enough to turn her knuckles bone white as she turned, eyes scanning through the stalks and leaves. Her fae eyesight let her garden in the darkest night with little trouble, but even she could not see the other person in her garden.

“Who’s there?” She asked, ashamed of the wobble in her voice. The handle of the trowel was burning hot in her palm, her knuckles turning white.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Azriel’s low voice echoed from behind her. Whirling around, Elain felt her body relax as she saw the spymaster hiding in the shadows of the greenhouse, his blue siphons gleaming in the starlight.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, her voice a breathless whisper. Her hand shook as she set the trowel down on the wall of the plot.

“Can’t sleep?” Azriel asked, walking closer, the starlight revealing his calm features. Elain hoped he couldn’t see the blush staining her cheeks in the dark as he approached. Azriel was wearing his fighting leathers and they emphasized his muscular form. His wings mere shadows at his back in the night and he wore two siphons on his shoulders in addition to the usual two on his hands. Curious, she asked, “Where did you go?”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable, with his wings folded tightly against his back. She pursed her lips and waited, knowing he was debating whether to tell her. Elain didn’t know why she even asked. She knew his position in the court demanded utmost secrecy.

“North, into the mountains,” he finally said. Elain didn’t know much about the Night Court’s politics, but she knew there was unrest in the north, among the Illyrian’s living there. The Illyrian’s whom Azriel despised. He was terrible at hiding his disdain for the culture he was born into, and from what Elain had gleaned from the scars on his hands and the quiet whispers she overheard, he hated them for a damn good reason.

“Everything go okay?” She asked and the concern was audible in her voice. She cursed herself again for her weakness. Why would he trust her with any information? She was just simple Elain. She cooked and cleaned and gardened and wasn’t to be trusted with anything too important. Elain roughly shoved the trowel into the soil, using her rising frustration to fuel her actions as she dug deeper into the plot.

“Well enough, all things considered.” Azriel’s voice moved closer, but Elain didn’t move to look at him. Her curiosity rose. While Elain was content enough, living her life as it was now, she couldn’t help but long for something _more. _She wanted to help her family, but she did not know how to begin.

The claws of the vision dug deeper into her mind, tearing into her consciousness and reaching deeper. Her Seer powers desperately wanted to make themselves known but with a slight wince Elain just shoved the visions back. She breathed in the cool night air, let it soothe her from the inside out.

“That’s good to hear, I suppose,” she said after a pause. She quickly finished planting the seeds and lightly patted the top layer of soil, a soft smile parting her lips as she thought about how pretty the flowers would look in full bloom under the brilliant night sky.

For a moment, she felt like herself. But that moment passed, as quickly as the wind.

She stood, brushing the dirt from her skirts, which was when she realized she was wearing only her nightgown and robe. She hadn’t bothered to change before coming outside. Blushing, Elain tightened the long silken robe around her thin form and finally looked over at Azriel.

He was standing only a few feet away, his hands folded in front of him, his eyes fixed on hers. Elain hoped he couldn’t see the pink staining her skin. Her eyes caught on his glimmering siphons, her thoughts focusing on the power they contained. She opened her mouth to say goodnight, but froze when the moonlight shifted, a beam of light falling directly on the siphon on Azriel’s right shoulder. Blue flashed, and Elain was lost to the vision that had been haunting her for weeks.

Her eyes filled with that blue light and her mind opened wide. She felt the vastness of her Sight expand impossibly as the vision took hold of her mind and soul. Short bursts of images flashed by as screaming filled her ears. The vision started to melt, morphing into an unrecognizable stream of colors and sounds.

And then Elain knew only blackness as her body gave way to unconsciousness.

***

_“…hadn’t had an episode in weeks, why now?” _

_ “…stress…delicate…”_

_ “Let her rest.”_

Elain’s mind woke before her body did, and she chose to lay with her eyes closed and body unmoving for a few moments. Her head pounded and she felt like she was going to explode from the pressure. She couldn’t hear anymore voices anymore, and it seemed as though she was alone again. The vision had faded to distant memory, though she was sure flashes would haunt her for a while.

She relished in the warmth of the sun against her skin and the softness of her bed beneath her. Slowly, Elain opened her eyes, squinting as she adjusted to the harsh sunlight streaming through her open windows.

A cool breeze wafted through the windows, the air dancing across her skin and ruffling her clothes. Elain inhaled in the refreshing air as it wafted through the room, her mind calming slightly at the fresh air.

She sat up, her head pounding and her throat achingly dry. With a slight groan, she made her way into the bathroom and gulped down the water from the faucet, not even caring how it might look. She stared into the mirror, memories of the night before swarming her thoughts. First the nightmare, then she passed out from the vision right in front of Azriel.

Her reflection was still unfamiliar. It looked like her, but not the self she had grown to know. She quickly looked away.

Her mind felt like a tangling of thorns and vines, and she was quickly being trapped between them.

And she did not know if she would survive long enough to find her way through that forest of deadly thorns before they pierced her skin and bones. Before they planted seeds of their destruction deep within herself and sprouted, eating her away from the inside out.

Elain thought of going out to her garden to help calm her mind, as it always had before, but something stopped her. She remembered her late-night talk with Azriel and how she’d so foolishly let herself be overcome by a powerful vision. He must think her weak too, just like the others. If only she could stuff that power deep down inside herself forever, but no. Her Sight came with consequences.

She still remembered the haze she was in for the first few months after being Made. Could remember how nothing made sense, how she didn’t even know if she was awake or if it was all a terrible nightmare.

But the nightmare was real. She was High Fae. Made. And there wasn’t anything to do about it.

Elain quickly bathed and changed into a fresh dress, braiding her hair and throwing it over her shoulder before venturing to the closed door lying between her and the rest of the house. She took a deep breath. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. They could probably tell she was awake already anyways, no doubt due to Azriel’s shadows or Rhys’s powers.

With a sharp nod Elain opened the door and stepped out into the hall. She already knew what the next hour was going to entail: her sister asking her about the vision, asking if she was really alright and if she needed a healer to come, and if there was anything she could do. To which Elain would answer: no, she did not remember the vision, no she did not need a healer, and no there was nothing she could do for there was nothing wrong.

Before she even got the chance to take a step towards the stairs, she nearly walked face-first into a hard chest. Elain made a surprised noise and took a step back into the doorway of her room. She looked up into concerned hazel eyes.

“Azriel, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.” Elain wrung her hands together, quickly averting her gaze.

“I did not mean to startle you.” Azriel folded his hands behind his back, his wings folded tight. Elain found herself looking up at his elegant face, at the clean lines of his jaw and chin and the concerned fold of his brow. She gazed into his dark eyes and felt at a loss for words for a moment.

But then she remembered why she was so distraught in the first place. She remembered how she’d made a complete fool of herself last night in the garden, and the moment passed.

“Oh, the fault lies with me I should have been paying more attention to where I was going,” she said with a forced smile. Azriel narrowed his eyes and shadows curled up his neck, little tendrils caressing his jaw almost reverently. She had the brief thought of what it would feel like to replace those shadows with her hands.

He stared at her in silence, as if reading something she couldn’t see. She nervously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and waited, her voice stuck in her throat.

“I _see_ you, Elain,” he said at last, his hoarse voice barely above a whisper. He stared into her, the shadows slowly receding as he spoke. “I see your strength and I see what you do for your family that they cannot understand.” The lump in her throat dropped to her stomach and she felt the exterior she was trying so hard to maintain begin to crumble under his emotional gaze.

“I see your suffering and your pain, and I want you to know that while you may feel like you are isolated and that you have to force that pain deep down into yourself, I am here for you. Whatever you need.” Azriel’s hand moved, as if to reach for hers, but his fingers curled back, and Elain felt her own fingertips twitch forwards.

Her breath caught and she felt as though the two of them were on the cusp of _something_. As though they were both standing at the edge of a cliff, about to dive into the unknown waters swirling below. And she thought, would it really be so terrible to leap? To take that last step and move forwards into something she couldn’t see the outcome for. Azriel was always there, always quietly supporting her from the sidelines, and Elain didn’t think she could go on without him there behind her.

“I-” she stuttered. Her hand moved on its own, reaching forwards to take his, the rough skin of his palm scratching hers. She saw his eyes widen as he grasped her hand, almost as if he didn’t expect her to touch him, as if he wasn’t worthy of being touched.

“I see you too, Azriel.” She squeezed his hand, the emotion she couldn’t put into words just yet clear in her eyes. He stared at her almost reverently. But those thorns were still growing, their seeds already planted and sprouted inside of her.

“But I am a broken thing and I don’t know who I am anymore.” She breathed. Elain released his hand and brushed past him, her heart cracking as he stood silently in her doorway, his hand still extended, palm cupped as if still holding hers.


End file.
